


In All the Wrong Places

by Other_Pens



Category: The London Life (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/M, Online Dating, mild swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 10:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7974295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Other_Pens/pseuds/Other_Pens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to prompt: 'Stephen, 21st century, online dating'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In All the Wrong Places

_Lovestruck: where busy people click..._  
  
Stephen stared at the screen with a small frown furrowing his brow.  
  
"...Well _I'm_ busy," he muttered. It was painfully true. Work kept him out of town a great deal, and while he enjoyed the travel, and in years gone by, the no-strings-attached excitement of an encounter where it was very much a case of we-will-never-ever-run-into-one-another-in-awkward-daylight-circumstances...it was beginning to get to him. Always coming back to his flat--shabbier low-rent man-caves, before he'd hit the big time, a place to shower and sleep, which hadn't changed much now that the flat had a view of the Thames and access to a rooftop garden--and finding it empty.  
  
Still, he hadn't figured his moments of ennui and loneliness could justify keeping someone dangling in London while he was off God-knew-where doing God-knew-what with God-knew-who. Not if he really cared about them--that was the kicker.  
  
There was an element of the cheesy about online dating, and though he didn't _think_ it was a pride thing, some part of him told him he didn't need the cyber-help, the dodgy artifice, the whole whiff of last-resort about the whole thing.  
  
Maybe it _was_ ego.  
  
Mostly it was terror.  
  
What if he met someone amazing, and every reason he had against the whole thing rose up to condemn him and kill the relationship before it even started?  
  
What if he explained his reasons for thinking it totally unfair to jump into what would be a semi-long-distance relationship from the get-go, and she _agreed_ with him, wished him luck, and went on her way?  
  
Worst of all--what if she stuck with him, anyway, and he got to live with the guilt of neglecting her for the rest of his days?  
  
Maybe he should just go to the pub. Again. There was that barmaid--Patsy, Pammy, Paulie, whatever it was--the one that always smiled at him. He was pretty sure he could bury his head in the sand that was her cleavage and forget about the bleak Escher staircase that was his romantic prospects for at least the next twelve hours. By then work would have come to distract him.  
  
It wasn't that he was a stranger to the Internet, in general. Hell, he'd only had the Lovestruck ads--and the eHarmony, and the okcupid, and the match.com, and even the poncy fuckers from elitesingles.com--popping up like weeds on the usual websites and blogs he followed. With his working schedule, conventional entertainment was not to be relied upon. A decent wifi signal was a silver lining on even the shittiest of days.  
  
With a slight sigh, he skimmed some of the more recent comments in the chatbox. Those users around seemed to be in good moods, sharing and joking as usual. And it really wasn't the place for his weird moping. Especially considering he was one of exactly two known men on the entire site.  
  
**User - Stephen: Sorry, I know I owe posts, but my heart isn't in it just now...**  
  
There. That was honest without shoving his blue balls in anyone's face. Figuratively speaking.  
  
**User - Immy: Work rough this week? Don't let Admiral Arseface get you down! :3**  
  
He had to smile. She had a knack for cheering him up. He'd had his reservations about a lot of things in the game--the period, which he knew dick-all about...the overwhelming amount of pastels...the sheer girl-to-guy ratio...but it had just been so easy, chatting with her, when it was late and he was in however many hotel rooms, too jet-lagged or wound up to sleep.  
  
If you'd told Stephen Brydges a year ago that he'd be roleplaying a baronet with a dark secret and a charming, handsome rogue (okay THAT one was entirely wish-fullfillment,) he'd've said you were barking, but she'd talked him 'round. Explained a lot of the formality (including emailing him seating charts and dance figures that looked more complicated than some football plays and business stratagems he'd looked over.)  
  
Once he'd gotten his head around the frilly shit, it hadn't been too bad. He enjoyed it, even. (Inasmuch as if any of his mates ever found out about his late-night internet habits he would very likely be the first scientifically-proven case of death by embarassment. No matter how secure one is about one's masculinity, you do not tell another bloke that you moonlight as Mr. Darcy for kicks that don't include a decent shag.)  
  
**User - Stephen: I'm a hot romantic mess.**  
  
**User - Immy: Haha, your characters have to get it from somewhere!**  
  
**User - Stephen: Thanks.**   
  
**User - Immy: What's the issue?**  
  
**User - Stephen: Issues, is more like. I'm considering online dating, but that won't really change the fact that I'd make a rubbish partner in the long run.**  
  
**User - Immy: Long run is stupid, anyway. Couldn't be arsed to sit there watching Mo Farah pace himself for what felt like five years. Sprinting, there's a sport I can make time to watch.**  
  
**User - Stephen: How is it you're always online when I am? Erratic schedules somehow matching up, or are you stalking me?**  
  
**User - Immy: Hah, don't flatter yourself. I've got a basketful of Issues, myself, to say the least.**  
  
Stephen leaned back in his seat, frowning once more at the screen.  
  
He couldn't. Could he? It...wasn't quite online dating, and yet it was. And yet if it all went wrong he could never show his avatar on Swooners  & Swindlers again. Then it was back to RPG-D and legions of thinly-veiled Lizzy Bennet wannabes flailing amid the grammatical fuckery because IT'S A BOY A REAL BOY.  
  
Immy, he could never have charged with any of those offenses.  
  
**User - Stephen: ...at the risk of wearing the stalker hat, myself, you said you lived in London, right?**  
  
**User - Immy: Yeah.**  
  
**User - Stephen: Don't suppose you fancy getting a coffee or something?**  
  
He'd never figured how painfully awkward it could be to stare at a chatbox that didn't update for several minutes. He even refreshed the page five times in a frenzy of self-deception, telling himself it must've frozen.  
  
**User - Stephen: Sorry, that was a bomb. Forget it.**  
  
**User - Immy: Oh god, no! I was AFK taking my meds. (Issues, like I said. Um...I suppose I could explain more if we were to meet?)**  
  
**User - Immy: (Is this a date? 'Cause we're already airing a hell of a lot of our dirty laundry, here.)**  
  
**User - Stephen: (Maybe it's better this way.)**  
  
User - Stephen: (...and yes. Let's say it is.)  
  
User - Immy: (Cool, just checking.)  
  
User - Helena: awkjaslfjkdskjlhd U GUYSSSS CHEcK OUT TIHS  CAT VIDEO OMG LOLOLOLOL  
  
User - Stephen: (...PMing you now.)  
  
User - Stephen: (...Imogen, not Helena.)  
  
User - Immy: Go to bed, HellsBells. You're drunk.  
  
User - Helena: DRUNKS JUTS ANUTHER WORD FRA AWERSOME@!!


End file.
